


Halloweens Past and Present

by melissaeverdeen13



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 14:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16020236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissaeverdeen13/pseuds/melissaeverdeen13
Summary: Jesse and Beca's Halloween adventures throughout the years; how the holiday looks from college to parenthood.





	Halloweens Past and Present

**Author's Note:**

> Please bear with me and pretend all these movies were out at the time of the sections of their lives! Also this DOES include spoilers for The Exorcist and Hereditary. A little early for Halloween, but I couldn't resist. Enjoy, and don't forget to review please!!

**HALLOWEEN #1**

**JESSE**

Benji’s comic book convention falls over Halloween weekend, which presents the perfect opportunity for me to have the dorm to myself. And because I won a bet with Beca, she’s headed over to watch some of the best horror movies in existence. 

I check my phone compulsively after she texts that she’s on the way, looking for any new messages or last-minute cancellations. She’s not the type to flake out though - she always comes through on her promises, even if she hates it. That’s one of the many things I like about her - her word is good.

There’s a knock at the door and I hurry to open it, slowing down once my hand touches the knob. I take a deep breath to calm down, then swing it open to find Beca standing there looking grumpy, wearing a jacket with a scarf thrown around her neck. 

“Happy Halloween!” I say, throwing my arms out to either side. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, rolling her eyes a bit. “Can I come in, or are you gonna leave me out here in the hallway?” 

“Unspirited people aren’t allowed inside,” I say, raising my eyebrows. 

She scoffs, shoves my chest lightly, and says, “Boo. Happy?” 

I can’t help but laugh as I follow her inside and shut the door behind us. “Very,” I say. 

She kicks off her shoes and unwinds her scarf, then hangs her jacket over one of my bedposts. I gather up the DVDs as she sits down, grumbling about something that happened on her way over.

“Everyone’s out in their costumes, looking like fucking idiots,” she says. “I saw like, ten zombies. They were disgusting.”

“Zombies are supposed to be disgusting. That’s kinda their thing,” I quip. 

“I never said it anything to do with their costumes,” she says, then chuckles at her own remark. 

“Evil,” I say, turning around with an array of movies in my grip. I flash them like a hand of cards, then wiggle my eyebrows at her. “Okay. Here’s the lineup. We’ve got  _ The Exorcist, Halloween, Let The Right One In, Evil Dead, Carrie,  _ and  _ The Shining. _ Take your pick.” 

She taps her chin. “Hmm,” she says, scanning the titles. “I pick… none.” 

“Not an option,” I say, wiggling the DVD cases in front of her and quickly moving away before she can bat them out of my grip. “You have to pick.” 

“Jesse,” she groans, tossing her hair out of her face. “Don’t you have something you’d rather be doing tonight than watching awful movies with me?” 

“One,” I say, sitting next to her and making my mattress bounce. “These movies are not awful. Take that back.” 

“No,” she says simply.

I jab her in the ribs with  _ Halloween _ . “Take it back,” I insist. 

“Hey! No!” she says, pushing on my shoulder. “Fuck off.” 

I laugh and nudge her side with mine, making her sway and nearly topple over. “Just pick one,” I say.

“I pick… putting Beca out of her misery,” she says, flopping backwards onto the bed. “Are you  _ sure _ you don’t have anything better to do?” 

I was invited to a handful of parties tonight, actually. But I’d much rather be here next to this surly girl who’s pretty much become my best friend. At least, we’re closer than anyone else I’ve had in my life before. It’s not like we tell each other secrets, but we spend a ton of time together. I force her to watch movies, she complains, we drink a lot of juice pouches. If I’m not in her dorm room, she’s in mine. That’s just how things work between us.

“Nope,” I say, then swing an arm around her shoulders. Surprisingly, she doesn’t shove me away. “So, you’re stuck with Jesse.” I hold up a DVD case. “And Regan.” 

“What’s up with the third-person talk?” she asks. 

I shrug and chuckle. “You started it,” I say, then lean forward to slide the DVD into my laptop before setting it up between us. 

We sit like we always do for movications. Legs extended in different directions, propped on elbows, shoulders touching. When the beginning credits start, chills run through my body as I think of the storyline that’s to come. Though it’s definitely one of the scariest in my opinion,  _ The Exorcist _ is about as original horror as you can get. This was a great starter pick.

“I thought this was about a creepy little girl who gets possessed,” Beca says, squinting at the desert on the screen. “Why’re they in Iraq right now? This makes no sense.” 

“It does make sense,” I say, without tearing my eyes away. “It’s building the backstory.” 

“Backstory of what?” 

“The demon,” I say, widening my eyes. “Just pay attention, and you’ll get it.” 

“This part’s boring. I vote we skip it.” 

“There’s no skipping!” I say, pushing her hand away as she gets close to the keys. “Just watch. It’s not that long of a scene.”

She sighs and relaxes, giving up for the moment. I watch the Iraq scene play through, then the picture changes as the story moves to Boston, where it’ll stay for the rest of the film.

“Happy now?” I ask lightheartedly. 

“No,” she says, but I can hear the smile in her voice. She tries to hide it like always, but - like always - I pick it up. 

It doesn’t take long for the plot to get heavy, and I can’t help but glance at Beca once it does to gauge her reaction. Her eyes are wide and glued to the screen in horror as Regan verbally assaults her mother and does extremely unholy things with a crucifix.

“What the fuck,” she murmurs, still watching in sickened rapture.

“Yeah. I know,” I say, amused.

“You’re laughing right now, and that’s seriously concerning,” she says, taking her eyes off the screen for the first time in a while to raise her eyebrows at me. “I’m never gonna be able to get that image out of my head. Ever. I’m gonna die with that in there.” 

“Good,” I say. “And it only gets worse.” 

“Worse?!” 

**BECA**

When the demon girl pukes green shit all over the priest, I jump. I seriously jump. I’ve never jumped at a movie before, and I never thought I would. They’re not real life. They’re not scary. 

Except, this one kind of is. Scary, disgusting, and disturbing. I’m also disturbed at the fact that Jesse seems so pleased with himself. 

“This is sick,” I say. 

“Yet, you can’t stop watching,” he points out. “You’re invested. You just jumped.” 

“I did not,” I say, though I’m very aware that I did. “It was a twitch. I’m falling asleep.” 

“And it just so happened right when there was a jump scare in the movie?” he asks. 

I shove him with my shoulder and tell him to shut up. 

“Just admit it,” he says. “This is a good movie. You’re interested.”

“I said, shut up.” 

“I should shut up so you can follow along, right?” he goads.

“I’m serious,” I say, unable to keep myself from smiling as I push a flat palm in his direction. “Shut your mouth. I don’t wanna hear you.” 

“You’re right. Important scene coming up. The big exorcism… you’re totally not ready for this, by the way.” 

He’s right. As I watch this Regan chick levitate off the bed while the priests scream  _ the power of Christ compels you!  _ at her, I get serious goosebumps. I rub my arms to get rid of them and I know Jesse sees, but this time - thankfully - he doesn’t say a word. 

As they continue to exorcise her, I watch with fascination and literally recoil away from the screen when the demon transfers into Damien and he throws himself out the window and down the stairs. 

“Holy shit,” I say, under my breath with one hand over my mouth. “On the same steps where…” 

“The demon killed Burke. Yep,” Jesse finishes. 

I watch the other priest read Damien his last rites, eyes flitting all over the screen as the man dies. I feel a weird sense of numbness as the movie comes to a close, that idiot detective goes bother someone else, and Regan and her mom drive away. 

“So, what the fuck?” I say, turning to face Jesse as the screen goes black and the music plays. “Where’s the demon now?” 

He’s so satisfied. I’d hate it if I didn’t like him so much. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “You’re not supposed to know. That’s kinda the point, I think.” 

“Well, that’s horrible!” I say, turning towards him to sit up straight with my legs criss-crossed in front of me. “That’s just… no!” 

“What?” he says, smirking. 

“It’s just like, what, floating around?” I make a wide gesture with my hands. 

“I don’t think demons float as much as they like… lurk,” he says.

“Lurk!” I repeat, chuckling despite myself. “So, like, it could sneak into one of us right now and we’d have no say over it.” 

“Bec,” he says, donning my signature eye-roll. “A demon is not gonna possess one of us.” 

“What’s stopping it?” I ask, crossing my arms. “It possessed a 12-year-old girl who didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Yes, she totally did! She messed with a Ouija board. Everyone knows you don’t mess with those.” 

“Oh, come on. They’re made by Hasbro. Fucking Monopoly is made by Hasbro. They’re practically begging to be messed with.” 

“See,” he says, pointing a finger in my direction. “That’s the kind of thought process that gets you possessed.” 

I snicker and grab his finger, twisting his hand out of my face. “You just said it wasn’t gonna happen to either of us.” 

“That was before I knew you enjoyed dabbling in the occult,” he says. 

“Little do you know, I’m a witch,” I say, widening my eyes while making a spooky face at him. I fan out my fingers and wave them, extending my arms until he playfully pushes me away. 

“You wanted to know where the demon was, it’s right here,” he says, pursing his lips and raising his eyebrows. 

I feign offense with a gasp. “Are you calling me a demon?” I say. 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” he says, leaning forward to pop the DVD out of the disc drive before carefully inserting it back into the case. 

“Well, Jess, then what are you gonna do?” I say, reclining on my elbows. “You got a demon in your bed.” 

He freezes in place, where he’d been hovering over the movies to pick another one. He glances over his shoulder with a strange look on his face, one I can’t read, and I know I said something weird. I didn’t mean for it to be weird, but it obviously came out that way. The tips of his ears are pink, and my face is getting hot.

I clear my throat and cut in before he can make the situation even more awkward. “Um… so uh, what are you forcing me to watch next?” 

“Oh,” he says, seemingly glad to have another topic to latch onto. “I was thinking  _ Halloween _ . Can’t go wrong with that tonight, right?”

“Plenty could go wrong,” I say, throwing my head back. “First a demon, now what? A killer? And you’re seriously gonna make me walk back to my dorm alone after watching this.”

He smirks. “I’ll walk with you,” he says. 

“So we can both be killed?” I tease him. “Double-whammy for the murderer. Two aca-geeks. I’m sure his life will be made.” 

“Shut up,” he says, sliding the disc in. “You’re gonna love this.”

“Doubtful,” I say, glancing at his profile. “So doubtful.” 

Jesse gets sucked into the movie much like he did with the last one, but this time I watch his face instead of the screen. His eyes follow the characters, he mouths the lines with them, and his reactions are a filmmaker’s dream. He’s probably seen this a hundred times, yet he flinches at every jump scare and even gasps once in a while.

Such a fucking nerd.

After Michael Myers has been going around killing people for a little while, my eyelids start to grow heavy. I do my best to fight sleep, but it’s useless. They close, and the last thing I remember hearing was Jamie Lee Curtis’s scream. 

I wake up much later, and the room is quiet but not quite dark. The main menu of the  _ Halloween _ DVD is playing the title sequence on loop, showing the same images again and again, the same piano tune repeating itself. I don’t know how I didn’t wake up sooner. 

It takes me a second to realize how I’m positioned. As I become more oriented, I realize that there’s not a pillow under my head, but Jesse’s thigh instead. I have one hand on his knee, the other tucked up near my face, my hair splayed across his lap. 

I don’t move as I take stock of how he’s resting. He’s got one hand in the dip of my side, between my ribs and hip. The other one is lying gently on my head, not tangled in my hair but placed there casually, like it fell there of its own volition. 

My body grows tense as I realize I must have done this in my sleep. Fallen over, gotten comfortable, snuggled up to the nearest warmth. He would never maneuver or manipulate me into a position like this, that’s not something he’d do. But he’s definitely asleep; I can both feel and hear his slow breathing, and he let me stay like this. 

I try and find it within myself to be pissed that he didn’t wake me up, but I’m not upset. All I’m upset about at the moment is the fact that I can’t stay. We’re friends, and friends don’t sleep like this. 

I sit up slowly so not to wake him, then gently close the lid of his laptop to stop that awful music. I glance back at him, his face calm and free of any worry, and force the smile off my lips. 

I can’t like him. I don’t like him. Not like that, at least.

I have to get out of here before I do something I’ll regret, like sleeping all night in his bed with him. I know that right now, if I crawled back onto that mattress, he’d take me in his arms and we’d cuddle up and lay down. It would be natural, just like that, because that’s how he is. He has no walls, no boundaries.

I gather my things, though, and don’t follow through with any of those thoughts. Because while he may be without any boundaries, I have too many. And I’m fucking terrified of letting him change that.

**HALLOWEEN #3**

**BECA**

“I will do anything, and I mean anything,” I say, raising my voice so Jesse can hear me through the bathroom door. “Not to go to this party.” 

“I can’t hear you, and I’m not listening anyway,” he says. “Hurry up in there! Or we’re gonna be late.” 

“Being on time to a party is not a thing,” I argue. 

“It is when your costumes are as good as ours,” he says. “I want people to see them before they get too drunk to care.” 

“I’d prefer if they were very drunk before they see me like this,” I say, pushing open the bathroom door. I stand in front of him, decked out in my costume, feeling like the hugest fucking idiot.

Tonight, I’m Regan. From  _ The Exorcist _ . And he’s Father Karras - complete with spray-dyed white hair, the purple stole, a container of holy water, and a crucifix necklace.

“Come on, Bec!” he says. “You love Regan.”

“I do not,” I say. “I don’t give a shit about her, and for some reason you think we have a kinship or something. We don’t.” 

“You’re both little demons,” he says, sauntering forward to wind his arms around my waist. “You’ve said it yourself.” 

“Yeah, well,” I say, losing my words because of the proximity of his lips to mine. 

“And you said no to my idea of being a Na’vi couple from  _ Avatar _ .” 

“Because I’m not painting my entire fucking body blue,” I say, skimming my hands over his shoulders. “Even for you. That’s where I draw the line.”

“That line doesn’t exist,” he says, smiling. “I push it back all the time.” 

“I’m completely aware,” I say. “Which would be why I’m dressed as a demon bitch covered in green puke shit.” 

“I love you for it,” he says. 

“Hmm,” I grunt. 

“ _ I love you, too, Jess, _ ” he says, putting his voice at a higher pitch assumedly to try and mimic mine. 

“If that was supposed to be me, you must be on crack,” I say, shoving his chest. “I don’t sound anything like that.” 

“Sure,” he says, slipping his hands lower to rest on my ass. “We should get going.” 

“Wait,” I say, grinning with an idea. “Don’t you want a kiss first?” 

He pulls away from the disgusting green makeup all over my face, avoiding my lips at all costs. “Thanks, but I’ll pass,” he says. 

“Aw, I’m hurt,” I say, laughing as I grab two handfuls of his stole. “Come here. I wanna kiss you.” 

“Get away from me!” he yells, laughing while working his way out of my grip. 

I crack up at how he runs away from me, but I eventually catch up with him by the front door. “Do we really have to go?” I whine, trying not to pick at the shit on my face. It already itches. “We could stay in… watch movies…” 

His forehead crinkles. For a fleeting second, I have him right where I want him. 

“Are you sick?” he says. “High on something?”

“No,” I say, running my hands up and down his arms. “I just really, really don’t wanna go to a party looking like this.” 

He snorts and rolls his eyes. 

“I could do that thing you like…” I say, sneaking one hand between us to rub him. 

“Shit,” he says, but pushes me away with control. “No. We are going to this party. I promised the guys we’d be there, and all the Bellas are probably wondering where you are.” 

“Amy’s gonna have a fuckin’ field day with this,” I grumble. 

“Come on,” he says, guiding me out the door. “It’ll be fun.”

It is not fun. 

Even after a few drinks, I still won’t admit that it’s fun.

No one is as dressed up as we are. At least, not in scary costumes. Stacie is a sexy nurse, Aubrey is a self-proclaimed ‘unsexy and very authoritative’ cop, Chloe is Madeleine from the children’s book, Jessica and Ashley are Miss Frizzle and Liz from  _ The Magic School Bus,  _ and Amy is a mix of about ten costumes at once.

“Beca, what the hell’s going on here?” Cynthia Rose asks, taking a big step away from me. “The fuck!” 

“I’m Regan,” I say. 

“Ronald?!” Amy calls, seemingly from out of nowhere. “He makes the best seven-layer dip you’ve ever had in your  _ life _ .” 

I close my eyes for a moment before opening them to find her. “How the hell would you know?” I say, and before I can tell her not to answer that, she does.

“Uh… it was his signature dish? He came to Tasmania for every single one of my birthdays. I guess your godfather just wasn’t as good as mine.” 

I open my mouth, but I’m at a loss for words. I can’t even acknowledge that. 

“No, I’m not fucking Ronald Reagan,” I say, looking back at Cynthia Rose. “The character from  _ The Exorcist _ . The little girl who gets possessed?” 

Cynthia shakes her head, still backing up. “Keep that shit far away from me,” she says.

“Don’t worry, she’s got the power of Christ on her side,” Jesse says, materializing next to me and looping an arm around my waist.

“It’s Julie Andrews!” Amy says, shooting her arms into the air. “In  _ The Sound of Music _ , before the Brady Bunch took her in, and she was still living with all the other ladies in the penguin outfits.” 

“No,” Jesse says, squinting. “I’m not a nun. Amy. Come on. I’m the priest from the movie, Father Karras! He gets the demon out of Regan. So, don’t worry. I even have this.” He holds up his holy water. “Blessed and everything.”

“Yeah, Benji blessed that,” I say. “It’s not the same thing.”

“It basically is, though,” he says, touching the side of my face with his nose. I feel him smile against my skin, so I roll my eyes and pretend to hate it - but both of us know that I don’t. 

“There’s something very, very wrong with this image,” Stacie says, walking up. “And that’s coming from me. A priest and a demon about to dry hump in the middle of a party? I’m weirded out.” 

“Shut up,” I say, waving her off distractedly while Jesse kisses my neck. I’m usually not so much into PDA, but we’re both a little tipsy, a little looser than normal. And it’s fun to make Stacie squirm, especially since the tables are turned. 

“Sick bastards!” Cynthia Rose shouts, shaking her head as she leaves us alone. 

“You’re ruining my makeup,” I say, giggling as Jesse’s grip tightens on my lower back. He’s the only male who’s ever gotten me to actually  _ giggle _ . 

“Thought that was what you wanted,” he murmurs, urging me closer. 

“Oh, so now we’re on the same team?” I ask. “This couldn’t have happened, I don’t know… 3 hours ago?”

“Nah,” he says, stealing a kiss before I can say anything more. 

“Seriously!” Aubrey shrills, making me jump. I never got used to that voice during my freshman year, and whenever she comes back for a visit it’s still just as tinny and painful. “I know the rule is null and void now, but honestly. Can you two please get a room!”

“Geez, officer,” I say, slurring my words a tiny bit as I turn around in Jesse’s grip. He keeps his arms around my waist and rests his chin on my shoulder, our eyes on the ‘cop’ in front of us. “Lighten up.” 

“Excuse me if I don’t wanna see you groping each other out in the open!” she says.

“Aubrey…” Jesse responds, and I hear the eye-roll in his voice. He picked that up from me. “Breathe. Have a drink. Live a little. Unbutton the cop uniform.” 

I flip around to narrow my eyes at him. “Hey!” I scold.

He smirks. “You know what I mean,” he says, then pinches my side. “Jealous.” 

“Am not,” I murmur, covering my mouth with one hand to hide my smile. 

“Uh-huh…” he says, lips moving by my ear as he flattens his palms over my stomach.

“Oh, my god,” Aubrey says, throwing her hands up and shaking her head. “I literally can’t.” 

We watch her leave, Jesse’s face still tucked into my neck, and I overlap his hands with mine while he rocks us from foot to foot. “Wanna get outta here?” he murmurs. 

“Oh god,” I say. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

**JESSE**

As soon as we get back to my apartment, Beca scrubs the crumbling green goo off her face and comes out of the bathroom looking like herself again. She has her hair in a messy bun, wearing a burgundy Trebles t-shirt of mine and nothing else. Well, I assume she’s wearing underwear, but the shirt hangs too low for me to know for sure. It’s a great look - possibly my favorite one ever.

“Mmm, get over here,” I say, staring her down while wavering a bit on my feet.

She gives me a once-over. “Not until you get out of that outfit,” she says, sizing me up. 

“What, are you siding with Stacie now?” I ask, lifting one side of my stole. 

“No,” she says, crossing her arms and popping her hips to one side. “Earlier, it was fine. But when I’m out of costume and you’re still a priest? Um… weird. And a little fucked up, if you ask me.” 

I can’t help but laugh as I pull the stole off and discard all my holy items. “You got puke on my lapel,” I say, showing her my suit jacket.

“I’m sure that Salvation Army suit has seen so much worse,” she says, hopping onto my bed with her legs tucked under her. 

I undress quickly and get into loungewear, then pad over to my DVD case. 

“Jesse…” she groans, throwing herself down on the mattress. 

“What?” I say, feigning innocence as I peer at her over my shoulder. “Don’t you remember? You want to watch a movie so bad.” 

“No, no, no, no,” she gripes. “I didn’t mean it. You know I didn’t mean it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I say, coming over with a handful in tow. “Still said it. You got yourself into this situation, demon.” 

She looks at me from under the arm she’s thrown over her eyes and glares. I plop next to her on the bed and place a hand on her bare thigh, using the other to leaf through the movies I brought. 

“I can think of something much better than a movie,” she says, then takes my hand and slides it upwards to rest between her legs. 

I meet her devious eyes, then raise my eyebrows - unbothered. I snap the band of her underwear by pulling on the tiny bow, then place my grip back on her leg in a much more benign spot. 

“It’s Halloween,” I say. “We have to watch a horror movie. It’s the law.” 

“The law!” she says, then shoves me with her foot. “According to you, it’s the law that we  _ have _ to watch movies on Friday nights.  _ Have _ to watch them after finishing homework.  _ Have  _ to watch them on Christmas. That is so totally not a thing.” 

“Yes,” I say, picking up her foot to place it back on the mattress. “It is. Now, pick one. I brought options. I haven’t even seen any of these yet, so we can experience them together.” 

“Movies you haven’t seen?” she says, gasping with wide eyes. She’s teasing me.

“Would you just pick,” I say. 

“I just can’t believe I get to witness yet another deflowering of yours,” she says, sitting up on her knees and looking at me with flashing eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I say, trying not to smirk. “You stole my innocence way back when. Just pick a damn movie.”

I lay them out on the bed:  _ Hereditary, Raw, A Quiet Place, Unfriended: Dark Web, The Ritual,  _ and  _ The Strangers: Prey at Night _ . 

She only takes a quick glance before shrugging and saying, “I don’t know.” 

“Bec.” 

“None?” she tries.

“I hate you!” I say, rifling through to pick one myself. “I heard this one was amazing,” I tell her, picking up  _ Hereditary _ . “I wanted to see it in theaters, but it came out during exam week. What do you say?” 

“I say… no,” she says, highly amused with herself. 

“Bec!” 

“Fine…” she says, pressing her palms against the mattress and crawling over to me. “One one condition.” 

“What’s that.” 

“When it’s over, no more. Just the one. We shut the laptop and I get you all to myself for the rest of the night.” 

I grin slightly, eyes glinting in her direction. “You got it,” I say. 

We get comfortable in front of the screen; I’m reclined against the headboard and Beca leans into my side, crunching loudly on candy taken from the party. I watch the first few opening scenes with interest, keeping track of everything as I usually do, then shit starts hitting the fan. 

“Jesus Christ,” I murmur, when Charlie’s head gets knocked off and Peter just sits there in the car staring ahead. “Holy fuck.” 

“Are you scared?” Beca asks, voice a bit taunting. 

“No,” I say. “I am deeply troubled, though. So, shhh.” 

We keep watching, she keeps eating, I continue to be baffled with every new development. After the car accident, things get progressively worse. It’s not jump scares and cheap effects, it’s true horror and disturbing feelings. At some points, I’m even sick to my stomach. 

When Peter smashes his face on the desk, I jump back and take Beca with me. I can feel her bemusement, but this time she stays quiet. I watch in sick rapture as the drama comes to a head - the father burning up because of the sketchbook, the demon going into the mother - I’m horrified, but I can’t stop watching. 

“Fuck no,” I say, eyes wide as saucers while the mom crawls on the wall behind Peter. “On the wall! On the fucking wall!” 

“Jess, shut up.” 

“She’s-!” 

“I know, but shut up!” 

I want to puke when Peter goes downstairs and sees his dad burnt and charred to a crisp, and I audibly gasp when I see what’s behind him. 

“The fuck! The naked guy! He was at the funeral!” 

“Jess!” 

“Jesus Christ.” 

I almost cover my eyes when the mother starts chasing Peter up the stairs, my anxiety is that bad. I’m about to crawl out of my own skin when she bangs her head against the attic door upside down, and I clutch Beca tight when she cuts her head off with the piano wire. 

“This is fucked up,” I murmur, unable to speak any louder. “So fucked up.” 

“You chose it,” she mutters, quiet too. 

The end scene is no better, and when the credits roll, all either of us can do is stare at the screen to try (and fail) to digest what we just watched. At least, that’s what I’m doing. 

I clear my throat when the screen goes completely black, and feel Beca’s eyes on me. I look over, trying to seem casual, to see that she has a shit-eating grin on her face.

“You hated it,” she says, resting her pointer finger on my chest. “You hated it so much, didn’t you?” 

“No,” I say, defensive .

“It grossed you out. It bothered you.” 

“I’m fine,” I say, removing her finger. “It was a good movie.”

“Oh, come on,” she says. “You never have this little to say after a movie ends, unless you’re asleep. You hated it, and you’re freaked out.” 

“I am not freaked out!” I say. “Maybe you are, and now you’re projecting.” 

“I’m unbothered,” she says. “Totally fine. But you… no, that car crash got you. And the banging head on the ceiling, and the piano wire cutting her-”

“Okay!” I say. “So, it was weird.”

“Don’t worry, babe,” she says, snuggling up to me while using a baby voice that makes me roll my eyes. “I’ll protect you from the demons.” 

She laughs darkly and pulls herself onto my lap, framing my face in her hands while looking at me with those big blue eyes. 

“Are you okay?” she whispers, drawing closer. 

“I’m alright,” I say, then smirk. “Probably just deeply scarred for the rest of my life.” 

“Good,” she says, settling her weight onto my thighs. “Then the only demon you have to worry about tonight is me.” 

**HALLOWEEN #14**

**JESSE**

Seeing Beca with our daughter perched on her hip will never cease to melt my heart. Ever. Even when she’s being stubborn as hell and making Rowan’s first Halloween anything but easy.

“A bumblebee is dumb, Jess,” she says. 

I close my eyes and resist the urge to roll them. “Okay,” I say, leafing through a few more. “What about a strawberry? Look at this freakin’ thing! It’s adorable.”

Beca cringes, raises her upper lip, and hoists 11-month-old Rowan a little higher. With their faces side-by-side, the two of them are easily distinguishable as mother and daughter. Though Rowan has my brown eyes, she has Beca’s hair and skin, and right now, the same deadpan expression. 

“Adorable?” she says. “We don’t want adorable.” She turns to our daughter and jiggles her playfully. “It’s Halloween! We want scary.” 

Things have changed drastically since our first Halloween at Barden, the one we spent in my dorm watching  _ The Exorcist  _ and  _ Halloween _ . The one where Beca fell asleep on me and walked out in the middle of the night, leaving me feeling confused and jilted. Things are definitely different now. 

We usually go to a Halloween party every year that doubled as an acapella reunion. For a while, it was a chore to get Beca to dress up, but when I finally convinced her, she consistently insisted on being something horrifying. She’s gotten good at the makeup for both of us, and it became sort of a thing. We were always the most unsettling at the party; it’s what we were known for. 

She still hates sitting through the horror movies. But the costumes, she’ll go for. One thing that hasn’t changed is how much she simultaneously confuses and entertains me. 

“She’s an infant,” I say. 

“She’s old enough to know what she wants,” Beca says, then pretends Rowan is whispering something in her ear. “And she said she wants to be a zombie.” 

“No way. No baby zombies.” 

“Whatever,” she says, chuckling as she uses one hand to balance the baby and the other to sift through the rack of costumes. 

I keep looking, too, then come across one that makes me smile. “Super baby!” I say, holding up the package. 

Beca meets my eyes with raised eyebrows as she pulls one out that she found. “Chucky,” she says, smiling evilly. 

“I appreciate the movie reference, really, I do,” I say. “But there’s no way.” 

She scoffs and puts it back, then I pull out something else.

“An ear of corn!” I say, waving it around. 

Wrinkles appear on Beca’s forehead as she scrutinizes both me and the costume. “You’re…” She looks both ways and covers one of Rowan’s ears with her free hand. “You’re fucking with me right now.”

“Pretty sure she still heard that. You left one ear open.” 

She can’t help her smile. I see her try and push it away, but it doesn’t work. 

“She is not being fucking corn for Halloween!” Beca hisses. “You’re practically stapling a sign to her back that says ‘Kick Me’.”

“I would never staple anything to our child, no matter how hilarious,” I say. 

“You’re so annoying,” she says, nudging me with her shoulder. We continue to look for a while, until I hear her say, “This is it. This is so it.”

She holds it up, and I see that it’s a baby demon. Well, more like a devil. There are little plush horns, red wings, and a forked tail. 

Rowan squeals and reaches for it, and Beca looks between the both of us with sparkles in her eyes. “She loves it!” she exclaims. “Come on, Jess, she loves it. Look at her.”

I grumble under my breath, slowly putting back the princess costume I’d just been about to fight for. It’s not worth it; it’s a losing battle at this point. 

“Baby devil, come on…” Beca says. “Think of how cute she’ll look.” 

“She’d look cute as corn, too!” 

“Okay, she’ll look badass, then,” Beca amends. “She’s gonna kick all the other kids’ asses when we trick-or-treat.” 

“Before or after she learns to walk?” I quip.

Beca smiles. “Okay, let me rephrase.  _ I’ll  _ kick their asses.” She smiles at me, taking slow steps over. “She’s wearing it.” 

I sigh deeply and hold her chin between my thumb and first finger, pulling her lip down a bit as she grins. “Fine,” I say. “She’s wearing it.” 

Later that night when we take Rowan trick-or-treating for the first time, Beca holds the baby comfortably in the carrier on her chest. I’m in control of the candy bag, and literally every single person who answers the door gushes over how cute our daughter is. 

“Told you this costume was good,” Beca says, glancing at me as we make our way down the sidewalk to the next house. 

“Okay, okay. You were right,” I say. 

“Look at her little horns!” she says, moving Rowan’s hands up and down for her. “I’ll rip your soul out, daddy!”

“Well,” I say, cringing. 

“Too much?” Beca says, laughing. 

“A bit.” 

“Okay, how about… I’m the cutest little demon from the tenth circle of hell that you’ve ever seen in your life! I’ll eat your soul for breakfast and make you watch!” 

“You have serious problems,” I say, but we both burst out laughing.

By the time we make it home, the baby is asleep with her head lolled forward and her body gone slack. Beca kisses the back of her brunette head and I carefully lift her out, and we bring her upstairs to get the demon costume off and lay her down in the crib. 

“The devil is so pissed at us for stealing his cutest minion,” she says, admiring Rowan as she sleeps.

I scoff. “That’s what she should’ve been. A minion!” 

“Get fucked,” she says. “Those things are more satanic than the devil himself.”

We leave the room so not to wake Rowan as we laugh, then find ourselves in the living room with a ton of candy between us. 

“Like taking candy from a baby,” I say, unwrapping a Kit Kat and popping it in my mouth. 

“One, you’re mean,” Beca says. “Two, I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again. If anything about you says that you’re a serial killer, it’s the way you eat Kit Kats, you fucking psycho.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” I say, mouth full. “You can’t tell me how to eat a candy bar.” 

“I can,” she says, standing. “And I will. And I do.” 

I roll my eyes and rest my arms along the back of the couch. “We’re watching a movie, right?” I ask.

“If we must.”

“Yeah, we must.” 

“Fine,” she says, heading towards the stacks of DVDs. “Then, I’m picking.” 

**BECA**

Before he even asked about the movie, I knew we’d be watching one. And I already knew what I wanted to watch. 

I’ve had to sit through plenty of movies during the long course of our relationship, but there’s only one I’ve enjoyed to the fullest extent - and that’s  _ Hereditary _ . Not because of the content - the content is fucking twisted - but because of how it makes Jesse react. 

He loves films. He loves the story arc, the music, the characters. But there’s something about  _ Hereditary _ that scares the shit out of him, and I like to get his goat once in a while. We haven’t watched or even talked about this one in forever, so tonight is the perfect chance. 

“You, voluntarily picking the movie?” he says, cocky as he chews on yet another candy bar. I know we’ll both have gorged ourselves on those by the time the night is over. I’m not looking forward to how I’ll feel tomorrow, but I’m choosing not to think about that right now. 

“I have one in mind,” I say. “Why?” 

“Just surprised is all,” he says, reaching for another piece of chocolate. 

“I’m full of surprises,” I say, shutting the disc drive before heading back to the couch and flopping down next to him. 

I get comfortable in the dip of his side and he wraps an arm around me comfortably, habitually. “What’d you pick?” he asks. “ _ Silent Hill _ , so we can get mind-fucked again?” 

“Nope,” I say, looking at the screen as he looks at me. 

“What is it?” he presses. 

“You’ll see,” I tell him. “Just watch.”

We make it through the previews, a sly smile on my face the entire time. I can tell he’s trying to figure out what’s coming, but since we’ve only seen this one once, he doesn’t have the commercials memorized.

But as soon as the first scene flashes onto the screen, he knows. 

“No!” he says. “No, no, no, no!” 

“Yes,” I say, laughing as I tuck my chin into my chest. “You said I could pick the movie. And I picked one.” 

“Not this one!” he says. “Not this fucking one! This scarred me, and you know it.” 

“Oh, you are fine,” I say. “You’re a big boy.” 

“It doesn’t matter how big you are when there are demons involved!” he insists.

“I told you then and I’ll tell you now,” I say. “I’ll protect you from any and all demons.” 

“I have reason to believe you’re their leader, anyway.” 

“What’d you say?” I joke, poking him hard in the stomach. “Are you insinuating that the mother of your child is the devil himself?” 

“Precisely,” he says, then turns to me wearing a wicked smile. “Happy Halloween, Lulu.”

With that, he tackles me and gets me under him on the couch, making me shriek with laughter. “Get off!” I shrill. 

“Did you catch that ‘Lulu’ was short for ‘Lucifer’?” he asks, face hovering inches from mine. 

“Yes, and you’re very witty. I can’t breathe!” 

He chuckles and lifts his weight off of my ribs, adjusting my body easily under him. I wrap my arms around his neck and look at him, my eyes soft for a moment, and watch his sparkle. 

“What?” he says. “Getting sentimental on me?” 

“No.” 

“Careful, or they might kick you outta hell.” 

“Don’t worry. My spot is very secure.”

He snorts. “I know what you were thinking, anyway.”

“Oh, yeah?” I say, situating so he can rest one leg between both of mine. 

“Yep. You were thinking how crazy it is that we’ve spent so many Halloweens together. And that made you start thinking about all the time in general we’ve spent together, and how far we’ve come. And that we have a freakin’ baby to show for all of it.” 

“The tiny nerd,” I murmur.

“Just like I predicted,” he says, kissing the corner of my mouth. “Remember?” 

“I try not to,” I say. “Damn. Thought I repressed that one.” 

“Oh, whatever,” he says. “You don’t have to admit it, ‘cause I already know. You forget that I can read your mind."

I meet his eyes and raise my eyebrows. “That you can,” I say, giving in without a fight. 

He leans in and kisses me, and I wind my arms around his neck as he does. I smile against his mouth, winding a leg around to rest a foot on his calf, and he smiles back. He always smiles back. 

He kisses my cheek, down my jaw, and eventually finds my neck. He tucks his face in the crook of my shoulder and pulls my shirt away to bare more skin, and I lean my head to the side to give him more leeway. 

“Mmm…” he hums, trailing a path of kisses to the middle of my sternum. “I love you.” 

I weave my fingers through his thick hair, starting at the back of his head and moving forward. I scratch my nails along his scalp in a calculated rhythm and close my eyes with a quiet sigh. 

“I love you back,” I say. 

“Enough to turn off this cursed movie?” he asks, lips moving against the swell of my breast that he’s somehow exposed.

“Nope,” I say, and notice how he grins as I laugh, teeth grazing against the fabric of my bra. 

Interrupting us and the sound of the movie, the baby monitor lights up on the coffee table and sounds of rustling soon turn into Rowan crying. 

“Cockblocking Daddy…” Jesse groans, pulling away from me. “Want me to get her?” 

“Sure,” I say. “She’ll be hungry. I’ll make a bottle.” 

He nods and I go into the kitchen, completing a task that I would’ve never thought myself capable of when he and I first met. But now, I could make a bottle for our baby with my eyes closed - and most of the time, I do. 

“Our little spawn of satan said she missed us,” Jesse says, coming around the corner with Rowan cuddled in his arms. “She heard all the fun we were having and wanted in on it, too.”

I drop a kiss atop her fluffy hair. “Alright, babe,” I say. “Let’s go sit down and you can eat.” 

We walk back into the living room and Jesse turns the movie off, earning an indignant sound from me. 

“Ro is  _ not _ gonna watch that,” he says, turning around with a frown. “Even if she has no idea what’s going on. It would probably turn her into a witchy ouija baby.” 

“That’s a new one,” I murmur, just to her. “Daddy loves to make stuff up to get his way. You know that?”

“I can hear you.” 

I giggle and say, “I meant for you to.”

He turns on something else, but I don’t pay attention to what’s on the screen. Instead, I watch the colors play off our daughter’s face as she holds the bottle with both hands, drinking her milk very seriously. She always wears a serious face - just like I do, Jesse says.

We’ve come so far. He was right, that’s exactly what I was thinking earlier. It’s not often that I let myself reminisce; I’m not gooey and nostalgic like he is. When he goes on one of his tangents, I’ll listen and soak it all up, but I’m not one to ramble about our past myself. Sometimes, I do think about it, though. How strange it is that we ended up here, but really not strange at all.

Jesse sits next to us on the couch, slinging an arm over the back cushion so I can lean into his side yet again. Rowan sighs and nestles closer to my chest, pressing an ear over my heartbeat like always, and her eyelids begin to drift closed again. 

“Next baby,” he murmurs, lips close to my ear. “Next pregnancy, I mean, I hope you’re pregnant on Halloween. That way, we can paint your belly like a jack-o-lantern.” 

He knows that if I weren’t holding our precious girl that I would fight him, and he’d definitely lose that match. But because of the position I’m in, all I can do is shove him with my side and give him a glare worth everything I’ve got. 

“Oh, fuck you,” I mouth, unable to keep the smile off my lips. “If you’re not careful, I’ll go put  _ Hereditary _ back in.” 

“Love you,” he says, squeezing my shoulder.

I lean into the kiss that he drops on my cheek. Like always. Damn him for consistently reminding me that I have a heart.

“Hmm.”

“Also, happy Halloween, satan’s mistress,” he says, tracing the apple of my cheek with the back of one finger. 

I turn to him, amused. “You know that pretty much makes you satan, right?” 

“Great.” 


End file.
